Jane Austen Therapy
by nastygustin
Summary: After being released from the hospital, Isaac struggles with his desire to resume acquaintance with Annalise Keating. But, first, he has to come to terms with his mental health... somehow, Annalise finds him and offers another solution. Something way faster and way more healing... how about a few days in the countryside? With the family?..
1. Chapter 1

Annalise missed Isaac. Yep, just as easy as that, although it rarely happened.

Or not so. At least once a day. For ten minutes or so.

(All in all, it was two hours per day.)

She knew he got out of the hospital, so he could call her any minute and suggest meeting, but she was scared to make a call herself. Was it about his words about their last meeting or her own awkwardness, she couldn't figure out and didn't really want to. You could say she hoped he missed her, and would change his mind once, and…

His silence made her really nervous, and with all the work she was snowed under (a successful class action suit took its toll and brought lots of new other cases) pressed her heavily. Sometimes she felt lonely and bored — that's what she called idleness. And, what was the worst — she didn't want to work. Something was holding her back and needed to be solved quickly.

Isaac told her that loading herself with work is dangerous, but it was way worse when you had nothing to do completely or having so much to do that... But then, where was he now? «Isaac's trying to get better», she reminded herself, «and you're going to be stuck in the hospital, if you don't…» As it goes, she needed at least some kind of psychotherapy. That's how she got into AA once again — but, just like always, she didn't reach out to proverbial royal punctuality.

The familiar door didn't change a tad — and what could have happened to it anyway? Annalise went in quickly and shut it without a song, casting a look over the hall. Nobody noticed her, even the man on the pulpit who was standing with his back to her — it was a tall deep-chested man who was just going to introduce himself and start talking about himself. She wanted to go downstairs and take a vacant place while it was possible, but the man suddenly said who he was. That was Isaac. Annalise freezed in the spot, not brave enough to even make a step.

He seemed to have been self-confident again — his voice sounded calm and smooth. He was telling the same things she already knew well and then, suddenly, started talking about her.

— I've met a woman I couldn't resist. I'm afraid any kind of resistance was hopeless. Just like me, she was independent, and I wanted to help her. I did everything she would ask me to. I wanted her to be happy. She provoked some long-buried feelings and emotions of mine, so I was hesitating, because I knew that, as an addict, I couldn't allow myself that. But I couldn't refrain. She was my client, and, although I should have stayed professional, I just couldn't do it. This was more than human frame can bear. Of course she knew nothing about it, but she reached out to me too. I thought I had a chance, so I reached out back instead of hitting the breaks. And I still don't know who's to blame for it. Was it me, because I wasn't strong enough, or was it her, because she didn't know how addictive she was and how easy it is to swap her out for another drug after a stray thought of losing her? — He looked down for a moment, trying to pick himself up. Seven pairs of ears were hanging on his words, and seven pairs of eyes were blinking, craving for resumption. — I cared for her safety more than I cared for mine. I thought she would get herself into trouble, behave reckless and relapse sooner or later. I pressed her and didn't notice how I started being reckless myself. I was terribly worried about her, knowing that her relapse would mean me relapsing shortly after. All of you know how that happens, right? All of us, — seven heads nodded. — You meet a person and suddenly realize they are everything you want in your life. I knew it was wrong and that too much of emotions can break me. If she rejects me, that can break me. If I lose her, that can break me. I could have cut down our meetings, could give her up, but, instead of it, I've dived into this pool headfirst. It led me to a relapse and I blamed her for that, overreacting. I've hurt her, and…

— Have you made up? — an unwanted voice from the audience asked. Someone seemed to be really looking forward to the end. Isaac nodded.

— Of course, she… I ended up in a hospital after an overdose I summoned myself, so she came to me. She wasn't furious or anything, like she forgave me for everything I told her. Of course it couldn't be otherwise, as she… She knew everything, we're of one blood, both addicts. — The audience started nodding their heads, someone even smiled compassionately. — I know I don't deserve her. She can deal with everything that's happening to her, and it's a lot, and I was too weak for it. You might have heard her name and, if so, you would knew what I'm talking about, — he chuckled, — and what plethora of incidents had happened to her… even more than compared to me losing my daughter by my own fault. She bore more, and I dared blame her, hate her, neglect her. Neither I deserve her, nor her forgiveness and, surely, nor her love. I was still thinking I could die, because I knew how much drugs can affect me, and how easy it is for me to relapse. But I got out. I'm here, I'm not using for two weeks now, I'm attending therapy, and I'm on my way to being completely sober and starting a new life. That's the only way for me to be sure I deserve her time, her presence… and love, of course.

The seven rose, clapping their hands, but Annalise, chewing over his words, kept sitting on the steps. So that's what was it all about? He was just awaiting? Yes, she could have guessed it. By that time Isaac went down from the pulpit, and the same woman who asked him questions went closer and spoke to him loudly:

— I hope everything will be sorted out between you and this woman, — she said, taking Isaac's hand tenderly. He nodded, trying to look as polite as he could.

— Thank you. I'm not really sure how to act and behave, but I will when I'm ready.

— You surely will! You know, we always fall in love with those who are just like as, it's inevitable, and we have to hold on to these people, — she went ahead, beaming. Annalise, finally regaining her senses after concerning thoughts, started to walk down the stairs finally, — I'm sure it happened to you as well. The world is such a stinky place, we have to know how to keep a withering rose of love in our hearts alive… She will understand you, when you talk, mark my words.

— I know, — Isaac kept nodding, — still, I…

— Isn't she the happiest? — Annalise asked, emerging behind his back, and Isaac, puzzled — oh wait, not puzzled, shocked — turned back. She added: — Any woman should be happy when sacrifices are made for her.

Isaac closed his just-opened-out-of-astonishment mouth and choked into his fist. His interlocutrix, thankfully, didn't notice his embarrassment.

— Sorry, — she said, — but it feels as I haven't seen you here before. What's your name?

— Annalise Keating, — she answered, giving her new acquaintance a hand, — I haven't been here for a long time, because…

— I can show you what has changed since your last visit, — Isaac interjected, smiling solicitously and hooked his arm through. — Do you mind?

The woman, still charmed by his polite tone and delicacy, nodded sweetly and got back to her place. The six of the addicts, who were listening carefully until that moment, started discussing something enthusiastically, as Isaac, still holding Annalise's hand, led her away — to the «register counter». A squat bold man in glasses was sitting behind it, keeping record of everyone who came here and being broody most of the time.

— Before you ask anything, — Annalise whispered, — I swear, I'm not here because of you. I didn't even know you were here.

— Really? I hoped that you remembered how you wanted to go to the meetings with me, — Isaac shrugged. — Anyway, I'm glad to see you, Annalise. I really do.

She wasn't sure whether he was telling the truth, but his eyes were shining with genuine warmth. Besides, letting her hand go, he put his palm on her back and now softly pushed her towards the counter with the squat man — and a sign of affection like this was quite telling. He wouldn't allow himself do something like this before. The man lifted his head, examined Annalise quickly and asked strictly:

— You're here for the first time, aren't you?

— Back on track, I'd say, — she answered, but the man didn't get anything.

Annalise got her registration, and the meeting went on. Isaac was sitting next to her, not looking at her at all, behaving just like other therapy participants, listening to speakers and empathizing their feelings through projecting them on themselves, nodding, and, from time to time, broodingly inclining his head — not of boredom, but of overwhelming emotions. This meeting really meant a lot to him, and, probably, he knew the exact importance of «working on yourself»… and she couldn't get his words out of her head, disturbing herself, falling out from monologues and feeling out of place. Perhaps she's just used to personal sessions? She was replaying his words in her head, «I don't deserve her love», falling out to such extent where she didn't get how a speaker managed to get from talking about horses at his father's farm, to his school teacher who resembled a giant hiking pot. The woman who put so much attention to Isaac said so little, Annalise could only remember her name. It was Miriam.

When the meeting was over, Annalise went over to Isaac, demonstrating the best she could she was not going to let him go now that easily. During forty minutes among alcohol and drugs addicts she finally made some conclusions, and now she was dying of desire to actually care about him. Do at least something to make him feel better. It was partly her fault after all, if not completely. Not only has Isaac noticed it, but he also commented, barely have they left the building:

— I appreciate what you're doing for me. I mean it. I'm not sure if you ever needed it yourself, but…

— I have, — she nodded. — Trust me, I really have.

Isaac chuckled.

— Now what? Are we going to come here together every time?

— Of course. But, before that, I want to take you somewhere.

He frowned, inclining his head. Annalise took a deep breath. It's now or never, she thought.

— My parents are still waiting for me for a giant holiday in celebration of my win in Washington. There are going to be plenty of my relatives, but…

— And you want to invite me? — Isaac asked, clearly not believing what he heard. Annalise shrugged.

— I don't know. I love my relatives, but if it's going to be lots of them, I'm going nuts. I'll need my therapist, and you need some treatment after the hospital. It would do you good to breathe some air — good for health… don't look at me that way, it's possible they don't throw any party at all. You may not even need to talk!

— That means we both win? — he smiled fondly. Annalise nodded, smiling back — it was good to see him being this happy. — Of course. I'm in.

They reached a bus stop together, and Annalise briefed him on all cases, taken and won lately, even though her thoughts were far away — and Isaac saw that, even if he didn't show it. Of course she loved talking to him again; she loved that somebody else was listening to her again, and it wasn't Connor, Bonnie or little Christopher, who didn't understand a thing yet — but the hardest part was yet awaiting for them in future. She had to call her parents, tell them she's coming for a visit, that she's going to be with someone… she didn't like looking for words, choosing them, and an intrusive memory of how she did the same inviting Sam over didn't want to leave her alone. She recalled a room he was sleeping in, what they were talking about, what her Mom said, how Celestine joked and how her uncles and aunties found it obligatory to ask how much they are going to spend on a wedding reception…

— Don't you want to come over? — Isaac asked, when they were at a bus stop. — If you need to share something, tell me something, I'd be happy to take you in. I've missed our sessions, and you.

— I miss you too, — she nodded, — but I've got a lot of work to do.

— You're haven't changed a bit, have you? — he joked, softly striking her shoulder with a fist. It was such an awkward, such a weird but cute movement, Annalise laughed on how fast ice melt in their relationship. But, then, Isaac got on a bus, and all of a sudden she was alone, recalling long-ago-passed days again. Sam, Mother, Celestine… what has she just signed up for?

Of course she wasn't going to reveal all the details to her Mom. It wasn't urgent for her to know Isaac was her therapist with his own issues. Celestine knew everything, because Annalise called her a couple of days ago just to actually talk to someone. The talk turned out to be weird after all, but it was a matter of a fact: her sister knew, probably, a little bit more than she should have. She told Mother her friend needed support and fresh air, but didn't elaborate. Celestine will ask questions the exact moment Annalise enters the house — why rush then? She already saw the expression on her Mother's face: freakingly happy about her daughter coming to see them, and she saw her nodding, agreeing on seeing Isaac and even presenting him a guest room. Annalise preferred not to think on which one exactly.

At the end of the week, on Friday, even before the AA meeting that usually took place on Friday, Isaac and Annalise took off in the sky and were there right for an hour and a half. They barely talked, aside Annalise's warnings of her relatives' lunatic behavior, with Isaac answering: «You should've seen mine!», laughing and telling her stories of his own every now and then. They were usually stories about his mischiefs with his elder sisters taking the blame — Isaac could barely sit still, and it was way too hard to follow his movements. However delighted Annalise was while talking to him relaxedly about everything and nothing at the same time — as she always wanted — she was way too worried about what was waiting for her at home. Not that Isaac was reading her thoughts, but he didn't bother her with much talking, and Annalise was grateful for that. Just as usual, he didn't need words to understand her.

The way home after they got off the plane and got on a bus was as silent as the flight. Once in a way she pointed Isaac to familiar buildings, often flashing in her childhood memories, and told stories about it not very enthusiastically. Isaac was listening close, supporting the topic and sharing his own memories. Suddenly, Annalise thought she'd never seen him that sincere and open — this thought was a relief, but not for long. The house and long-awaited meeting with her parents — even though Annalise didn't see it that way — were already on the line. Isaac held her elbow softly and said:

— You got this. Come on.

— No need to encourage me. These are my parents.

— That's what I'm saying.

He put his hand on Annalise's back again, just like at time of the meeting, caringly pushing her further, and she made a couple of steps. She didn't tell Isaac she didn't elaborate on their relationship status to her parents, as she was still doubtful about it herself, but he, as it seemed, knew everything without a single word of explanation and didn't want to express his feelings straight, falling down to his knee right from the threshold and begging for her hand. Moreover, they were going to be here for a couple of days, which meant they had some time for talks without any worries, and, probably, they had some time for long-awaited explanations as well.

Isaac was still looking at her encouragingly, when Mother emerged in the door and unfolded her hands greetingly. In a hindsight Annalise noticed Isaac gripped by flowers, nearby houses' windows, clouds — in one word, being nervous — and thought how vain his words to her were, as he was so loaded himself.

— Oh, this must be the famous Isaac, — Mother said with a huge content, reaching her hands out to him. Father came to the door as well, and Annalise saw Celestine on the stairs — the sister warmly smiled at her. — Annalise told us so much about you! We will do whatever we can to help you, we have a gorgeous air here indeed. Mac, just look at him! Cool as a cucumber, and hasn't even spent here a darn minute! — Isaac was embarrassed by plethora of compliments, however deserved they were, but shook Father's hand and bore active expressions of favour from Mother.

Annalise herself stepped into the house, reaching out to her sister — she went downstairs, not eager to answer to the hug. Crossing her hands on her chest, Celestine critically examined Isaac from head to his toes, and, according to her face, was quite content with result. Thankfully, Isaac was too busy talking to Mother to notice it. Celestine whispered:

— Any time you bring a man here, he turns out to be even more handsome than the previous one. Where do you only get them?

— I always thought my Anna Mae will collect a whole bunch of handsome men, — Mother said with a sly smile, as if she heard her daughters talk. — White, black, everybody loves ya!

— You're exaggerating, — Annalise noted judgingly. However much she wanted to avoid awkward situations, it was way harder with her parents. Isaac seemed to be laughing at that. They have already entered the house, and Father closed the door.

— Why so? — Mother started counting on fingers. — First, Sam. White man he was, but so strong, noble and intelligent, right up your street. Nathaniel then, a black…

— Way more handsome than Sam was, if you ask me, — Celestine joked, and Mother nodded, bending second finger. Isaac glanced at Annalise with a question, but kept silence tactfully. She didn't mean to start their first real vacation together talking about exes, especially Sam who crossed her mind every now and then. It was inevitable surely, but, the less — the calmer her soul was.

— That's right, such a handsome black man, considering where they can end up… and where from people like my Anna Mae can get them! — Mother slapped Annalise's shoulder and smiled, turning to Isaac. — You must be very proud of her?

— Yeah, — he nodded quickly like he was happy to finally have a word, — especially considering her issues…

— If Sam is an issue, — Mother interrupted again, — this issues have been resolved a long ago. Right, Anna Mae?

Annalise shook his head, but Isaac was ready to go down the tube. Again. Though he was holding himself politely with her relatives, he smiled and such, his movements and words even showed some tension. Or, perhaps she made it all up hoping he shares her anxiety? His eyes, despite all of this, were still laughing, so, maybe, it was her who was nervous, and him, unexpectedly for her and, most certain, for himself, felt like home.

The Parents went on to show Isaac to his room, and Annalise went upstairs to hers. The most horrifying — to introduce Isaac to her relatives and avoid complicated talks about their relationship which were imminent — passed. Soon enough, though, Annalise saw it was the quiet before the storm.

— Tell me the truth now, or, I swear, I will deny you are my sister, — Celestine said, glancing into a room and ironically watching her sister admiring old pictures on the wall. She came in with a chuckle, and, as customs required, fall onto to the bed, contemplating the stained ceiling and shabby chandelier, looking fresh after the cleaning. — Are you two a thing?

— I think we're on our way, — Annalise shrugged. Neither was she used to intimacy with her sister, nor wanted to be too much of an introvert — moreover, she knew the cat would be out of the bag sooner or later.

— Don't think I'm against it, — she rushed to explain, — I can't judge you for dating a white man again. Frankly, I would judge you if you never even thought about it. He seems nice, even though we know him for barely ten minutes, but I felt some… — she put her finger to her chin and furrowed the brow. — Charisma? Or, is it right put, something that reminds me of you intrusively?

— So, that's where the sister love comes from, — Annalise chuckled, sitting on the bed next to Celestine. The sister hasn't changed a bit since they last saw each other — and, probably, she managed to stay the same for the last ten years. Even wrinkles, emerging so often because of smiling, didn't bother her. Perhaps, she just didn't smile that much and had some lack of happiness in her life? — Should we be worried about you?

— I thought about seeing a therapist as well. I might be lucky too.

— I can't beat it. But get ready for an enormous nerd — you can never tell.

— You made teddy bears out of two nerds. Mind to share a secret? — Annalise shrugged.

— I don't know the way he behaves around everybody else. I can't say how is it different to how he behaves when he's with me alone.

Suddenly, Celestine burst with laughter.

— I know this sounds silly in our age, but have you two…

— No, — Annalise shook his head. — Our relationship is quite… complicated. It doesn't develop that fast.

— Is it these stupid rules «I don't sleep with my patients»?

— Technically, he's not my therapist anymore.

— And not technically?

— He helps me. A lot. And I like talking to him.

— You know what bothers me the most? — Celestine said, straightening herself in front of her sister. — You took him here as your friend, not a partner, but you can't deny that's where it's all going?

— Neatly put, — Annalise answered, lifting her eyebrows. Her sister clapped her hands:

— So, why is he here then?

— He's just out of a hospital, he could do with some fresh air, — she answered decently. Celestine nodded, knowing she can't get anything from her sister now.

— So, it's a kind of a dual therapy? — she asked, inclining her head. — You're here with your therapist, official and non-official, so he's curing what he has to cure and, at the same time, curing himself too. Right?

— Right, — Annalise nod. It sounded way better than any explanation in her head.


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed to her that Isaac was having a jetlag — it didn't matter whether he was still not used to his presence here or still felt unwell — so he was sleeping like a log for a couple of hours after arrival. Whereas Annalise was trying to calm down with a great deal of effort — she was flying as well, you could say, but somewhere far away, step by step tearing old visions from her memory — visions she had already forgotten not to worry about them anymore. She remembered Celestine getting wasted on her humble bachelor party for two, and how happy Annalise was not even thinking of taking a drink… and how she dialed her mother's phone numerously, hoping to call her and tell everything about Sam, Lila, even Wes, how she hang up and drained vodka glasses again… her thoughts were intruded by a knock on the door. Annalise glanced at clock — it was about seven, so she was lying here for an hour or so. It relaxed her a little, though pressing it was — just like any feelings cultivated by a strong thoughts flow. Thankfully, the man behind the door was Isaac who had nothing to do with her past, had something to introduce in her present and maybe – it was a scary assumption to make – her future. When she saw him again, tired, with messy hair, it was like a breeze of change.

— I could do with some fresh air, — he said briefly. — Mind if we take a walk? Tell me everything about this place.

Annalise was silent for a couple of seconds, glaring at him and trying to believe in a simple, as it seemed, truth: he is not Sam. Yes, sometimes he resembles him awfully, but he was with his wife around 20 years and, perhaps, didn't cheat on her once… perhaps, she never knows… Annalise wouldn't like him to bring her down too. Anyway, she nodded and promised to be downstairs in five minutes, and Isaac, with a nod in respond, closed the door, leaving her thoughts to peacefully lay down in a row and not irritate anyone anymore.

Weather was cold enough yet pleasant, but Mother lent her an old warm scarf and handled her an umbrella in good faith, claiming «Outside is more like life: you never know when it starts to rain». Even so, even the weather seemed to restrain from spoiling their promenade — a swift breeze was blowing without a glimpse of freeze, clouds were roaming through the sky, flies and bees were buzzing among grass and a rare biker would pass them by. It was the first time Annalise noticed how peaceful this place was compared to Philadelphia. Or was it Isaac, who created this feeling, walking by her side and glowing with flawless self-confidence and calm? Never before was she that close to him, and, in a way, it pressed her emotionally. All was fine before he had covered a delicate matter, and that's how that had started:

— I understand you might not want to talk about it, — he said, — but curiosity is eating me up… who is Nathaniel?

He took Annalise by surprise: she stopped, closing her eyes shut, and stood silent for a couple of seconds, pondering on what to answer.

— We might talk about it later, if you don't want to bring this up, — Isaac rushed to say, as if trying to correct his mistake.

— No, it's… it's fine. He was after Sam… and… — it was awkward to admit this to him for some reason. As if they were still a thing. As if he could think wrong about her after that. As if that would mean she could cheat on him all the same, although that wasn't the truth. — And whilst — as well.

This doesn't mean she would cheat on Isaac, does it? He understands it clearly, he's not an idiot. Isaac leaned his had broodingly, as he had often done during meetings, and Annalise, recommencing her walking to animate the lingering pause, said:

— It's hard to explain.

— Why so? Marriages breaking after children's death aren't rare, — he grinned. — You know what they say: «It felt like an abyss laid thick between us». Both spouses can't share responsibility and come to a conclusion who's to blame, which immensely effects relationship… perhaps it's better to part at once than cheating on one another. Hadn't I left Jacqueline, how do you think, where would I be?

Annalise sighed. He was doing it again — revealing himself, helping her overcome the awkwardness.

— Weren't you seeing anyone after her? — Isaac shook his head, pursing his lips.

— Nobody I'd like to have in my life. — He smiled lightly, as if saying «But it's not about you, for sure». Annalise lifted her gaze up to him once again, and it was… appealing, hearing something like this. He chuckled. — You know, however much I like it… I still don't get why you are doing this. And this says lots of things, for I am a therapist, and I have to see other people's motivation to earn my living. And whatever is surrounding me right now, for me, is a complete mystert. I was mistaken multiply, so… I'll just ask to your eyes. Why am I here?

Annalise turned away, biting her lip and chastising herself for hesitation. He very much understood she was not going to tell the truth after she did that.

— I just wanted to get home, and you needed some rest. It doesn't oblige you of anything.

Even if hadn't believed her, he didn't show a single sign of that. Annalise was immensely grateful for that.

— Yes, but I mean… if I called a woman to countryside, to my parents… or to a family holiday, as you call it… I'm afraid, my sisters would be whispering behind my back and stalking us, hiding around the corners, hoping to catch some secret talks or whispers… or kisses… anything, as if we were in some kind of a Jane Austen's novel, and me, the smallest kid, some kind of Elizabeth Bennett, if you like, would be the one who'd need an urgent marriage, for if I don't marry anyone, Father's legacy would be passed to a cousin of ours, known by nobody, — he stopped, contemplating the flowerbed, as if the sweet petals and leaves, overlooking land, were hiding some secret meaning. — You see, we're walking and talking about life, just like in one of her books.

— But they didn't have vodka or heroin back then, — she answered, looking at an ant under her legs. Where's it going? How many small ants are fed by his tiny legs? Isaac turned away from a flower, contemplating cloudy skies. For a couple of seconds he stood silently, but then, still not breathing a word, he held Annalise's shoulders, leaning her towards him carefully. They resumed walking, slowly, not looking at ants and bushes, just… walking. Walking and enjoying tender breeze. And their own company, for why not do such thing on such a pleasant evening?

— The Victorian era had opium. It probably existed even earlier. She just didn't want to write about it, because every one of her characters was so stone decent. Well, if she didn't plan to make it otherwise, in that case she would just deprive her characters of any virtue and modesty…

— Well, we're not in England anyway. The Americans wrote nothing of this kind.

— Still, we had Whitman and Emerson, which isn't so bad too. It's a pity I forgot a Whitman's book at home, or I would start declaiming something about… green leaves. And blue skies. And the meaning of life, literally.

They both burst out laughing when suddenly a weird yet explainable thought came to their minds at once: that everything surrounding them is just a story made up by imagination by some horribly talented author. It was way too silent and empty here, without a single soul around, to think they were still on their native planet — no, they were somewhere far-far away, where nobody could really touch them or break their peace. The Garden of Eden somewhere on the plains of the United States.

Isaac was watching the road one second and muds reflecting skies the next, one second at the grass stamp flat by bicycle tires and the road the next, when Annalise, lifting her eyes up to him, kept silent for a couple of seconds, trying to get her thoughts together and understand her feelings. Serenity and happiness. Quiet, well-balanced, with a straight beat of her heart. What's the difference if he's not her first love or that she's almost 50? He looked at her too, and the tip of his lips moved up shyly. What if he's thinking the same about her — or something that is just slightly different. Does it matter? He's happy too.

— Both of us had been married before, — Annalise said, — so it's not that easy unlike Jane Austen's young characters who have everything awaiting them in the future. Who are madly in love for the first time and don't know that marriage doesn't resolve every problem automatically…

— Is this really important? — Isaac shrugged, leaning her closer — and braver — and they went ahead, each smiling to their own thoughts with the same words in both of their heads.

It was getting colder, and Isaac, a doctor to his bones, suggested going back — Annalise, who felt already hungry, didn't have to think twice. Mother naturally made a feast, rambling at her daughter for not allowing to invite somebody else. Yet Annalise felt a lot better like this, and even the comments that could lead her to an awkward situation, passed her.

Evening swiftly flew into the night, and her mother, as is the tradition, came round to wish her good night. She approached, gently kissed her on her forehead like she was a little girl, turned the nightlight off and left. Annalise felt like she was still a kid, even without any fairy tale before bed. The darkness swallowed the room. It's the worst time of the day, come to think of it: darkness has neither knowledge, no sense, and you are all alone with stuff going on in your head. Annalise thought about the day, about her worries… if only she hadn't liked Isaac that much… she could be sure that… she knew well her age is not a time for expecting mistakes from your side, it's more vice-versa; she knew well that either she could be the end of Isaac, or he could be hers, or they both would hit the rock bottom… at least they'd be together, that's a nice fall that way… that's how it always happened, hasn't it? That's okay if he had only felt the pain, but it could be lethal for him all the same. She never killed anyone with her bare hands but was the reason for tons of deaths, and to endanger him too… How selfish it was of him not to give her the alternative even if he never thought about it… however, he's here now, it's all good with them now… there's nothing to be scared of for sure…

— I didn't tell you everything. Fancy a session in the middle of the night?

She didn't even realize how she turned out right in front of his door when clock was showing one hour past midnight.

Although it seemed to her Isaac shouldn't have been surprised by her visit, yet he spent a couple of seconds trying to come to terms with it, but stepped aside and let Annalise in for now. It was an ordinary guest room with no specific features except, maybe, the fact that Sam used to stop by here some long time ago… yes, it was _very long ago_ , and Annalise chased importunate thoughts away. Of course, Mom and Dad knew nothing better than to give him the room. The nightlight stood beside the head of his bed with a marked book obviously borrowed from the Father's library and reading glasses. The wallpaper was nearly ancient and plain, sticking off in some places. Annalise couldn't remember the last time this room was redecorated, if ever — but Isaac seemed content with everything.

He brooded at her while Annalise was browsing the room. He quickly covered a white T with a shirt, his hair messy. Annalise didn't rush with her talk, and he wanted to give her some time, already seeing how memories had overflown her, so she came to talk about it. He might not have been ready for it, that's why he wouldn't fall asleep — he was hoping she would come. He sat in the armchair next to the book shelf, placed his arms on pads and made himself comfortable. Only to feel okay, self-confident; he was prone to lose that feeling in her presence. Although, it couldn't happen now, when she's in her nightrobe, with no makeup on, standing before him in a place that didn't see many of her close people. Why would he care about the «bunch of men» her mother was talking about, if all of them were far away now, and he was here?

— I never told my mother about the child, — she finally said, not looking at Isaac. — After tons of miscarriages I didn't want anyone to have hopes. Mother always wanted to be a Granny, so… and, here we are, recently, — Annalise sat at the edge of the bed and looked at Isaac, so now it was really like a psychotherapy session, — when I came here after Sam's death, and someone from the DA office wanted to get me… I was all fed up. So I told her. I told her that we almost had a baby… and then I had an accident, and… — she shut, swallowing the lump nervously. Isaac kept silent, just looking at her; he knew that the best remedy sometimes is attention, silence and no odd questions. — She suggested I should write a letter to the baby and bury it in the yard. She thought I couldn't let him go otherwise. It's funny, — she said with a grin, trying to smile, — that you made me do the same thing about Sam… maybe I never really needed your help after all?

— Could you make it? — Isaac wondered, feeling the need to interrupt. Annalise shook her head, and her look — neither grieving nor burned out — stopped at him.

— There are some wounds that even time can't heal, ain't that? It's not that, it's… — she glanced aside again, looking at golden letters on a book cover. She still didn't see the name of the book and didn't recall whether she had seen it before. — I remember thinking: what if I didn't have Mother? It happens all the time. Kids are abandoned and they are growing up all left to their devices… my father, he… he left us, when I was a girl, and I surely hated him for it, but then he came back… and now they, together with Celestine, are looking after mother, while I'm trying to make the ends meet in town. We had just known Mother had dementia, while I was in jail, and… and I still don't know whether I'm ready for her leaving. — She silenced, looking at Isaac expectedly, and threw her hands up. He didn't breathe a word, as if he was thinking about something. — Don't you have anything to say?

— I will only tell something you clearly understand yourself. Once faced with grief, the key thing is to admit it, not to hide it deep inside your heart. To speak frankly about it. Openly. You shouldn't be scared.

— Ain't that what I'm doing right now?

— Your mother's still alive. That's why your wish to stay here a little bit longer whenever you come here is quite understandable.

— What if I say otherwise? What if I have no desire to stay here?

— Avoiding grievance is as natural as feeling it. The only thing you should be thinking is whether you'll regret it later or not. Considering you'll keep escaping it, surely.

— There's nothing I can tell surely, — Annalise said shaking her head. She clenched her fingers in a fist and set them in front of her, inclining her head. Isaac felt how useless it was to sit still; he felt that was the very moment when he, knowing he has a right to, can sit next to her and support her in a way prohibited for a therapist but allowed for a friend. _Who wants to become more than a friend_. He didn't doubt that he's more than just a friend to her too… Instead of it, he said from where he was standing:

— If you want to leave, I won't judge you.

Annalise lifted her head and bent her brows like she always did to disagree with him:

— Wouldn't that be unfair?

— Unfair to whom?

— To Mother, to Father, to Celestine. — She looked at Isaac soberly and keyed up. — Wouldn't you stay with Stella if you knew she was going to die in the next couple of days?

Isaac swallowed a lump. He wasn't expecting her to start this talk, but he knew he should stay calm. Inclining his head, but still looking at Annalise, he said:

— I would. — Yes, he knew perfectly well what the status of «more than a friend» brings. Talks like this are just the small part of it.

— Goddamit, — Annalise swore quietly, — I shouldn't have asked it.

She averted her eyes once again, as if she had suddenly felt guilty because of her words. Isaac knew he had enough of it: he stood up, approaching her and reaching his hands out unconsciously.

— Why not? I'm up to talk about it.

— Indeed, yet it's none of my business, — she dropped with her head tilt. Isaac made one more step, with his voice sounding as calm as possible:

— No, we can talk about it like adults. Like those who… trust each other. You're not my patient any more Annalise, whom are we trying to fool? — she looked up at him at last. His eyes, not so malicious and feverish as before, showed nothing but grief, sorrow and a wish for support. — If you want to talk grievance, death, please, I'm all ears.

— Who are we trying to fool… I didn't even intend to tell anything in the first place, — she noted, shaking her head and avoiding looking at him. Isaac frowned.

— You mean…

Annalise straightened up, looking at him almost mockingly.

— I couldn't fall asleep. I don't know why, then I just got out of my room and ended up here. Maybe I just needed a reason to see you after all.

Isaac was barely coping with coming to terms with her words. Annalise glared at him, watching the hectic movements of his pupils.

— Which means… you only wanted to talk? — he said, his voice descending. — With me? Of anything, just to…

— You tell me. You're the doctor.

All Isaac could give was a sad smirk.

— You never cease to amaze me. I can barely give an explanation.

— Don't worry, this shall pass.

— I hope not. How can you be so strong and… broken at the same time asking me, of all people, for help? — he sat down to the bed next to her, watching the shimmering light of a nightlight on her face, and took her hand timidly. — Do you really need me so much?

— Well, you're here. I think it tells something, right?

— Sure. But you haven't been so vocal about it.

— But I'm here. That's the answer you're searching, doc.

Isaac saw how hard it was for Annalise to look directly in his eyes and how she, swinging her eyelashes every now and then, either casts a look down on the floor, or turns away all of a sudden, looking around as if she is deeply worried about something. It was mesmerizing for some reason and he, barely understanding why he was doing what he was doing, reached out to her, trimming already short enough distance off and touching her cheek. Her skin was under the tips of his fingers, yet Annalise didn't look away, but leaned towards him, placing her cheek in his palm completely. Fits, fits perfectly, he thought. Why would anyone think human bodies can be imperfect?

For a moment Isaac was just happy he could touch her unhampered, yet he craved for more. He gently pressed his lips against her cheek waiting for reaction: Annalise threw her head back as if she was offering more space for kisses, and Isaac availed of it, sliding down her neck and caressing her face, digging his nose down in her hair and touching her nape. She didn't even notice closing her eyes and taking a deep breath when his spare hand lied a tad above her stomach.

— There's so much life beating inside of you, Jesus… — Isaac said softly, touching her pulse vein on the neck. Annalise knew exactly what she was feeling and knew that his hoarse harsh whisper is only kindling her, and she wasn't used to a long start. Without a single word she moved him towards the bed, hanging over him and leaving a few seconds both for him and for her to realize what was happening, staring in his eyes.

What the heck are they doing?

What for?

They can barely understand it neither now, nor afterwards, but it happens the way it should. That's certain.

All the contemplations disappear once he touches her hips drawing her closer, slides down her spine and touches the loins; when he kisses her lips, when her hair touches his forehead, when Annalise turns out to be everything Isaac has ever known, felt and seen in front of his eyes. When she lightly bites his lip, pulling it, when she presses his shoulder into the bed with her elbow, when she sits up and allows him to take of the now unnecessary t-shirt. He didn't even know what to focus on: should it be her lips tasting like lavender toothpaste, or her body felt and slithering right underneath his touches, or her hands suddenly browsing his chest, already under a t-shirt, pressing him intensively yet softly. The bed that seemed so pleasant initially, became uncomfortable all of a sudden: he knew there was no place to roll, so he couldn't be above, and he desperately desired to be. This made him angry, peeved, made his movements faster. She got a bit of problems with his T, clearly out of her nerves, and Isaac, taking an advantage, straightened up, embraced Annalise's back and turned her, finally being on top and leaving the T behind. Annalise seemed puzzled, not used to somebody controlling her actions, but Isaac didn't even give her time to think about what has just happened, interlocking their fingers and pulling her arms aside, once again pressing against her lips. "I will let him lead, — Annalise thought with still having a strength to, — he must be so happy to do such thing".

— Are you sure about it? — he asked, trying to catch his breath in a few centimeters near her face.

— Of course, — she closed her eyes impatiently. — I was sure about it way back to the day when I came to you and asked not to stop our meetings. Then…

— Oh, you knew it back then, — he laughed, shaking his head, — and I refused it, so… — he silenced himself, leaning closer and making her throw her head back.

— That might have been right, — Annalise said calmly, even though breathing was getting harder. — You knew what you… you knew, what from…

— No, it's not right, — Isaac answered, rising up to kiss her chin, — I tell it as a doctor. This would have been the worst thing ever…

— What a surprise how talkative you can get wh… — she clammed up, completely out of breath, as she was throwing her head back, back, back, permitting him to go down, down, down. Isaac was enamored for real, even though he couldn't fully realize it thinking about completely different things with nothing in specific. Annalise he dreamt of for so long never knowing he did, is writhing towards him, her palms stroking his back, she's underneath, she belongs to him entirely. They both are breathing heavily and know there's no way back. Now there's nothing left; nothing but gibbering sounds, breathing in and out, insistent kisses and entwined fingers. The clothes on the floor, all of the self-control down with it, with everything that could ever stop them. All of a sudden Isaac recalled how long it was since he last was with a woman, and felt insecure for a moment, but chased that sense away — he had to always be strong with her, especially now, whilst she was waiting, saying his name under her breath, and interrupted it being unable to finish it off as well.

He knew for certain he would take responsibility not only for his, but for her life all the same, as she was reaching out to him with all of her body and soul, leaning against and towards, arching and gulping with no strength left in her lungs. He knew that if he was going to relapse now, this will not only affect him but her too; and if something was to happen to her, he would never forgive himself for that. But what can happen when she's in his hands, with him, he's kissing her, he has a right to see her true colors implemented in her by nature, when they are fusing, kissing again, when he's inside her? Though hundreds of words were running through his mind and pulling him back, Isaac banished them violently, trying not to think but to feel — that was the only thing he's ever wanted, and nobody else in the world could gift him the drive Annalise was giving him here and now.

He stopped for a moment gasping hard, looked inside her eyes, on her lips, the open neck, the hair cast out on the pillow, her open collarbone and a narrow crook on her chest. Isaac was watching, contemplating, loving, waiting for the last intrusive thought to lay low, turning his entire body into a tightened string. When this happened, and he kissed her once again, roughly bringing her to heal against his body, the string tore up, and he perfectly knew he'd sleep until midday, and Annalise would stay in his chambers till the morning.


End file.
